Page 21 of Santa Baby

Gabby set another folder down on my desk before thumbing through a stack of letters, organizing them neatly on my desk.

“Great, great,” I said into the phone. “That’s doable, but I need to know how many units you need in the long term, preferably quarterly. Once you have those numbers, I’d be more than happy to meet up and hammer out a plan.” I glanced at Gabby, and under my breath, I whispered, “Gabby, add a meeting to my calendar for January twenty, Brown Jug enterprises. I need Colin and James from accounting there.”

Gabby nodded, continuing to sort the incredible amount of mail that’d been dropped off today. My desk was a wash of colors, the mess starting to grate on my nerves.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you as well.” I hung up the phone and ran my hand over my face before turning back to my computer.

“Shelly from the Aster Foundation called a few minutes ago. She wanted to know whether you were attending the Mistletoe Ball tomorrow. I told her I’d get back to her.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m planning on it. What time did they want me to make an appearance?”

She neatly stacked the mail in order of importance, just how I liked it. “You’re not just making an appearance, remember? Heritage Spirits has an activity booth⁠—”

“Oh, shit.” I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “I totally forgot about that.”

Gabby shot me a matronly look with a slight arch of her neatly manicured brows. “You know, this isn’t an actual ball. It’s open to the public. The tickets are sold out but it’s going to be very casual, Mr. O’Leary. You don’t need to pull out any stops. You’re just a sponsor.”

The Mistletoe Ball was a New York City staple during the holiday season. Half craft fair, half Christmas market, the event was held at the New York Public Library and spilled out into the street, where stalls and booths teeming with hot chocolate and fatty holiday food had Manhattan smelling like heaven. My company always had a booth, but this was the first year I’d offered to do it myself instead of sending our army of interns to run it. They kept wandering off to enjoy the festivities.

“My son just had his Christmas festival at school,” Gabby said as she grabbed a few folders off my desk and tucked them under her arm. “They had this wonderful activity where the kids made mistletoe bundles. I could give Shelly a call and see if they already have something like that going on, and if not, I can order everything you need.”

“Sure, that sounds fine.” My head pounded as I turned back to my computer screens.

“You know, Mr. O’Leary, everyone in the office is about to start their Christmas time off. You should consider taking some vacation time as well. Maybe go upstate to see your parents?”

I gave Gabby a kind smile to hide the tightness in my chest. “I’ll think about it. Someone has to stay here to run things, you know, especially with you taking three weeks off.”

She matched my smile, rolling her eyes as she shuffled away. I really liked Gabby. She’d been working for me for five years, and I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did without her. But she was also a mother to four children under the age of ten and tended to try to mother me, too.

She was usually right, though. I hadn’t taken any vacation time in years. I even planned to be here Christmas Day, which suddenly felt wrong, but I chalked that up to spending so much time with Fia lately. The mere thought of her always got me all tangled up inside. The feelings I’d kept under control since I started going through puberty became almost too difficult to contain. I liked her. A lot. I looked forward to seeing her and talking to her.

I normally didn’t like talking.

The day passed by in a blur of last-minute details for an outgoing shipment of our special edition holiday scotch, a fan favorite. I took phone calls that ranged from emergencies at the distillery to a rogue investor calling to wish me and my family a happy holiday. Gabby poked her head into my office around four to tell me she’d ordered everything I needed for the event tomorrow, and then left for the day to go pick her oldest son up from school. She wouldn’t be in next week, since Christmas break had just begun for her kids, so I was now completely on my own in my slice of the New York City skyline.

Six rolled around, and I was still behind my desk. A brisk knocked sounded at my office door, filling the otherwise silent room. Before I could react, the door opened.

Dad closed the door behind him and tucked his hands in his pants pockets. “Burning the midnight oil?”

“It’s a busy time of year,” I answered, even though I’d been sitting here for an hour doing nothing but thinking of texting Fia.

“I tried calling you.” He sat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Your mom is planning a dinner on Christmas eve at our city estate. She expects you to attend, of course.” He looked at me with eyes identical to mine, then dropped his gaze to the window overlooking the skyline. “She wants to meet—what was her name? Mia?”

“Fia,” I corrected. I cleared my throat, swiveling to face him. “I can see if she’s available.”

“Dinner’s at eight, so if you have earlier plans with her family, you’d still have time to make it to ours.” He tapped his fingers on his knee, his Rolex watch glistening in the soft overhead lighting. “Where did you meet her? She’s impressive.”

“Impressive?” I didn’t like the way he said it. There was a little lift to his voice, something that made me wonder if he meant it in a sarcastic way. “You mean, normal?”

“Who’s her family?”

Here we go. “Colin, my CFO, is her older brother.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, I was wondering if there was a connection there.”

“Her mother is a teacher at a public school in Brooklyn, and her father works for the city, union.”

Dad glanced at me, then went back to the skyline.